Ho hum
by SadCreeper
Summary: Coulson is not right after "A Magical Place". Centered on Coulson but Fitz is a significant character by the end of Ch 2. Features everyone in some way. Cursing and sexually explicit situations! I don't own Coulson, Justin Bieber, David Letterman, SHIELD (but if I did, Party on the Helicarrier Y'all) or any other products, services or characters mentioned herein. Enjoy! (or don't).
1. Chapter 1

Phil Coulson shouts hoarsely as a surgeon plucks as his insides. Phil Coulson groans contentedly as a beautiful Tahitian kneads firmly at the knots in his back. He begs for death as he lies on a cold metal table and a sharp, insurmountable pain shoots from his head to his toes. He sits in a beach chair, his toes warmed by the softest, finest sand imaginable. He languidly sips his beer and even takes a moment to look over the brochure that the desperate time-share salesman had handed him. _Tahiti: It's a Magical Place. Make it your home away from home_. For a minute, he entertains the notion _Why not? _He muses. He stares down at the cold tile floor and rocks back and forth in his chair mechanically.

"I shouldn't be here" he repeats "I shouldn't be here" he repeats. His flex-cuffed hands rest on his knees his fists clench around the material of his sweatpants. He willfully ignores a frowning Nick Fury.

"If you don't stop trying to hurt yourself I'm going to have to do something drastic." Fury stares down at him "Do you understand me Phil?"

"I shouldn't be here" Phil repeats again and again "Please let me die" he continues, because he really should be dead. It's the one thing he's certain of.

"Phil" Fury bends down on one knee and takes the seated man's head in his hands. "Phil!" Fury shouts He grabs desperately at Phil's ears in an effort to force their eyes to meet. Phil distantly registers the mild discomfort and while he can no longer stare at the ground he certainly doesn't look at Nick Fury.

"Dammit Phil" he's shouting again "don't make me do something I'll regret."

At this final statement Coulson stops rocking and meets his oldest friend's gaze.

"You say that like a man who hasn't already done something he regrets Nick." and Phil Coulson hopes his eyes are as hard as his words. Fury pauses and then smiles.

"No regrets Cheese. You know that." Nick is still smiling softly and Phil knows it's because the older man is foolish enough to believe that the brief pause in Phil's mantra is a sign that everything will be okay.

"No regrets huh?" Phil returns a smile "You know that phrase only makes sense to three kinds of people" Phil continues "The first are those with no conscience. The second are those rendered incapable of self-reflection by hubris and the third are those rendered incapable of self-reflection by cowardice" Phil's face remains unchanged "When you used to say that crap in the Army; I remember thinking you were just a little cliché. When you continued to use the phrase after I followed you to SHIELD, I thought you were probably a bit of a coward, but I didn't hold it against you. Because who among us isn't at least a little bit of a coward really?" Fury's hands clamped down harder on Coulson's ears "but with this latest foray into God's territory I see now that you have an ego that could move more than mountains Sir." The kind quality of Phil's voice was a stark contrast to the sharpness of his words.

Fury stands and releases Phil's ears. Coulson returns to rocking and insisting "I shouldn't be here".

"I love you brother" Fury sighs "I hope you will remember that again someday" then the older man leaves Phil alone to rock in his chair and paw at the material on the knees of his sweatpants and explain to the tile flooring that he shouldn't exist which is why he respectfully requests permission to die.

A fit looking Tahitian in red board shorts and flip flops brings Phil another beer. A lime peeks out over the bottle neck. Phil shoves the lime all the way in the bottle and watches as the amber liquid bubbles. The sun is setting and he is unimaginably content. He briefly wonders why he hasn't had the urge to contact anyone that might still think he's dead.

Phil Coulson blinks awake unceremoniously. His head hurts like a son of a bitch.


	2. Chapter 2

He doesn't dare look at his bedside clock. He'll send himself into a frustrated tailspin by automatically calculating the number of hours he's slept and the number he can still get _If I just fall asleep now,_ so he stares at the ceiling and thinks of the ways he could improve the weekly logistics report _if HQ would only let me, those bastards._

He knows he can get back to sleep. He hasn't slept more than two hours at a stretch in the weeks since he got back from the dessert. _I have to crash at some point _he muses internally. He tries to think of excel spreadsheets and budget graphs but his mind keeps drifting back to Tahiti, and all of the doubt that has sprung from the realization that Tahiti is one of the few places he has never actually been.

He grunts angrily and pounds on the mattress because if he can't calm his mind enough to sleep then he'd like to punch a wall, he really would, but that would wake people and he's received more than enough sideways glances since his return, so he throws a tantrum that only his mattress will hear and screams into his pillow. _Why the fuck is this so fucking hard. You've been through this before… get yourself together Coulson _

But he hasn't been through this before. He really hasn't. He'd seen some things, lost some loved ones, taken a few bullets, etcetera, etcetera...and he'd always had a relatively easy time figuring out how to manage these kinds of things emotionally so he could look after everyone else, "manage the talent" so to speak. It was his one strong suit. He'd always thought of himself as relatively average at pretty much everything else, but he knew how to work hard, and stay calm. Now he was falling apart. If he couldn't keep himself together, he really didn't have much else to offer. Now his mind was shifting between two realities and while he was awake it was only mildly disturbing but when he was asleep, it was like someone was taping his eyeballs open and forcing him to watch film noir while screaming in his ears, and every time he woke, his head hurt.

He's tried drinking, he's tried working out, he tried doing that dramatic thing he'd seen in movies where you slap yourself and yell at the mirror…it didn't work. He'd read the binder containing the details of his resurrection until his eyes bled. He'd hoped that in doing so, Tahiti could somehow be replaced by the truth because even though he really doesn't want to think about the truth, Phil is pretty sure he won't be able to sleep until Tahiti is gone. He would try masturbation but he's fairly certain that he couldn't, even if he tried really, really, really hard, and that's just one more can of worms he doesn't need to open right now.

He throws off the covers and storms into his office. He turns on the light in the main office and grabs the binder. He reads the details and reads them again. He convinces himself that he can get rid of Tahiti with a little willpower. There is a way for discipline to repair this. There is a way for discipline to repair everything; so he looks at the photos and tries to focus on the pain _this has got to be a first_ he thinks sarcastically.

He remembers the pain and it makes him think of a beautiful beach and then he thinks of Fury in a lab coat and board shorts….so he throws the binder at the wall and immediately regrets his outburst because _shit someone may have heard and I am sick of having to stay quiet in my own damn room_.

Phil Coulson surrenders and pours himself a Jameson. He knows it won't make him sleep but in spite of what people say, it will make him feel better. He's going to drink and find re-runs of Letterman online and he's going to laugh at the "Top Ten List" while he contemplates just what line he needs to cross before he admits to himself that he is no longer fit to lead….and then he hears a soft knock at the door.

Phil Coulson freezes because he can't imagine anyone but Melinda May knocking on his office door at…_what time is it anyway?_

He glances at his computer clock and realizes that it's 4:10 in the morning. No one but Melinda May would dare, but May would join a Justin Bieber fan club before she'd knock on his door like a timid child, so he honestly couldn't imagine who was on the other side.

_Fuck it, I've had one shot of whisky _he thought _what's my last shred of dignity at this point anyways? Bring em' on_. _No regrets! _He thought sardonically and then he laughed out loud.

By the time Phil arrives at the door he's knows, based on the character of the insecure "knock", that his intruder must be Fitz or Simmons. When the door swings open, he's not surprised to find a worn looking Scotsman looking completely unsure of himself. What Phil hasn't worked out is why the Scotsman is there in the first place. For a moment Coulson just stares at the kid with a quirked eyebrow and Fitz wrings his hands nervously. Neither man speaks for a few awkward moments, until Phil sighs and breaks the silence.

"Fitz" Coulson's tone is somehow annoyed and amused "Can I help you?"

"Ah, yes Sir" the young man begins "I thought since you were awake, and I am also clearly awake" Fitz stumbles "I mean I don't really need to tell you that since you can see me standing here, but still I thought we are both awake so perhaps you'd like to finish our game." Fitz finished abruptly….

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

From the time Phil was a Sergeant, he had tried very hard to connect with everyone he'd ever commanded. As a junior soldier he learned that what distinguished the good Officers and NCOs from the bad ones wasn't their tactical knowledge but the extent to which they cared. A dedication to the citizens they served and to the soldiers that served beside/under them was a defining characteristic of every leader he'd ever admired. When he was a fresh-faced PFC he realized he would work twice as hard for the leaders that simply cared about him and on the rare occasion when he and his bosses shared a connection, a friendship, a fondness or even an infrequent joke, he would charge into hell without so much as a request for orders clarification because he knew they wouldn't command him to do so, unless it were for some greater purpose. So, Phil, instinctively as well as professionally, cared for every single one of his subordinates, even the ones he had to remove from their positions due to misconduct or incompetence, even the ones that hated his guts…and he did his best to connect with all of them. It didn't always work (especially with the ones that hated his guts) but he gave it the old college try.

At first he thought it would be difficult to connect with FitzSimmons. Prior to his current assignment, he had only dealt with SHIELD Scientists as attachments for specific missions. Now he was permanently assigned two of them, and they weren't just scientists; they were young, British scientists….which left out pretty much everything he normally talked to people about including: sports (American only please), old comics, old television and a recent favorite topic of his… _Whining about how much it sucks to get old_.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long to develop a rapport with Jemma. She loved to talk about her field regardless of his rudimentary understanding. If he gave her a minute to get out of her head and into the conversation (i.e. remind her she is talking to another human being) she was more than capable of explaining things in simple terms. She was adept at using metaphors to relay the basic concept behind a complex principle and when, as a result of her tutelage, Phil was able to display a grasp of the concept she would throw him a smile that fueled his sense of good will for days on end. Her enthusiasm for Biology was so infectious he found himself genuinely interested in the articles she'd hand him. For the first time since his sophomore year of high school, when his chemistry teacher lost his goatee in a failed demonstration, Phil Coulson found joy in science.

It took him longer to connect with Fitz. The young man didn't delight in explaining things; in fact, he didn't seem to have patience "talking science" with anyone who didn't speak the language fluently. It didn't help that Fitz seemed to treat every Operations Officer with the same measure of respect and contempt owed a school bully. Phil supposed this was because Fitz had encountered a few bullies in his lifetime, and most of them probably bore a strong resemblance to every male Operations Officer pumped out of the academy assembly line. Unlike Phil, who had never looked much like a traditional Operations Officer, Grant Ward was tall, dark, handsome, and a badass, so in the beginning, Ward took the brunt of this contempt. But, Fitz still saved a measure of unnatural _standoffishness_ for Coulson who was not only an Operations Officer, but his boss and team leader in a far more regimented and structural way then Fitz had ever encountered in a lab. The younger man wasn't completely comfortable with their roles so he did what he was told and rarely attempted to engage his boss outside the confines of his assigned duties.

Phil accepted that while he would love and care for Fitz, as he had loved and cared for every single one of his charges, the two of them would likely never share a connection beyond work…until one day he noticed the Scotsman playing chess online. The Agent figured _what the hell_? He knew Fitz was a certified genius and he'd probably never win a game, _but maybe that will help repair a piece of the chip on Fitz's shoulder_.

One day Coulson asked Fitz if he wanted to play a game and Fitz accepted the invitation with surprised-interest. Slowly but surely, it became their thing. Fitz could voice his concerns, talk about problems in the lab, highlight equipment shortfalls, comment on operations, and even talk a little shit about Coulson's chess _ineptitude_ and he could do it all without crossing any invisible line marking the limit of appropriate conduct between supervisor and subordinate. For his part, Phil finally found a way for the two to have a non-work related conversation that wasn't filled with awkward pauses and on a professional level, Coulson was finally able to get the scientist's honest input.

Phil was not surprised to find that he enjoyed Fitz's company. Outside the context of work, he liked listening to the young man ramble and joke and shit-talk because once you got him talking it was hard not to be charmed. _The kid is damn hilarious_ and Phil often found himself laughing in spite of himself. Then he was taken by Centipiede and the games had stopped, at least for the time being.

Now, as he watches Fitz bounce around on the balls of his feet outside his office door, nervously waiting for a response to the invitation to wrap up their unfinished match, Phil can't begin to imagine mustering up the mental energy necessary to be a worthy opponent for the younger man. For a moment he considers turning the scientist down, but quickly recognizes that Fitz is not normally up at 4:10 in the morning. The Scotsman looks more than a little wrecked himself and the game he is offering is probably not just for Phil's benefit. Phil Coulson is being offered an opportunity to be a good boss, a good friend and a good man and he knows that if he turns that opportunity down…he is truly lost.

"How can we finish the game?" Phil finally addresses the young man with a bemused expression. "looks like the pieces have been cleared away." Phil's nods his head down the stair case in the direction of the activities table with the embedded magnetic board. The evidence of Phil's inferior Chess abilities had been cleared away.

"Well" the younger man shoves his hands in his pockets and continues to bounce nervously "half of SHIELD was in here after you were taken, so I had to put the pieces away, but I snapped a picture" Fitz pulls his cell phone out of his right pocket and extends it towards Phil.

"See?" Fitz holds the phone out for his boss. Coulson takes the phone and smiles warmly at the overhead image of their final chess match. The older man laughs incredulously still staring at the phone.

"You know I thought the one advantage of getting kidnapped was that I'd escaped this particular blood bath." He hands the phone back to Fitz.

"No Sir" Fitz returns the phone to his pocket "I never leave a game unfinished"

"You know you'll beat me just as easily if we start a new game" Phil mirrors Fitz stance and shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants.

"I can beat you at a new game after we finish our current bloodbath Sir." Fitz explains "but I think it would be bad luck not to finish"

Phil wears a fond smile and his eyes twinkle with amusement.

"Very well then" he nods his acceptance "Set up the board. I'm going to change. I'll be right out."

Phil disappears into his office and Fitz lets out a sigh of relief. He's more grateful then he'd like to admit that Coulson accepted the invitation.


	4. Chapter 4

Leo Fitz stared blankly at the ceiling. It had been a week since they returned from the Academy. The shame he carried after providing a subject with key intelligence (which eventually led to a cataclysmic disaster) gnawed at his mind and kept his brain too engaged for sleep. During the daytime, it would come and go like the tide. He would feel fine. He would joke with Skye, jabber with Simmons, complete tasks in the lab, and then out of nowhere, something would remind him of what an abject failure he was. During the daylight Fitz pressed on, because that is what was required. But at night, alone in his quarters he could let the depression and shame wash over him and rob him of sleep.

He wasn't just a scientist, he was an Agent of SHIELD and before last week, he felt he'd proved himself. Fitz was perturbed by the perception that he wasn't every bit the Agent that the others were and while he'd never be a tactical genius, he knew he would do his part when the time came.

Then he had become completely smitten with a boy who so reminded Leo of himself that he became almost giddy with the prospect of passing on his knowledge to the next generation of SHIELD genius. Fitz had played into the kid's hands like the fool his team always knew he was and it had resulted in hundreds-of-thousands of dollars in damages and at least one death. Looking back Fitz knew he was lucky that more people hadn't been killed.

Even now he felt empathy for the boy. They were so alike it made him wonder if he wasn't capable of the same foolish misstep and this empathy made Fitz long to bring the fallen cadet back into the fold. These thoughts only made him feel more foolish and ashamed. He knew he should be fired, punished, reprimanded…something but everyone had just been supportive. They patted him on the back and told him that it wasn't his fault. _But they are my friends_ he thought _It's their job to be supportive_. _If Mae or Coulson had been with us. If they weren't distracted by other things they would know the extent of my screw up_.

Fitz had considered approaching Coulson and explaining things. He'd considered apologizing or asking for guidance but everything had been so convoluted lately that he couldn't begin to imagine burdening the older man with his problems. It was only within the last month that Coulson had been, kidnapped and God knows what things had been wrenched from the man's mind. Skye and Ward kept commenting on how much things had changed but Fitz had been surprised at how quickly things had returned to some semblance of normal. One minute there were a million new SHIELD Agents on the Bus, Agent Hand had completely taken over Coulson's office, and no one knew what the future held…and then they recovered their boss and within five hours of his recovery the small army of Agents that had amassed on their plane had cleared out and there was Coulson, cleanly shaven and in a shiny new suit giving orders again. Things were certainly not normal. They were on standby for a couple weeks. Missions screeched to a halt until they had finally been sent to the Academy and Coulson spent that time hiding in his office but who could blame him. Still they had morning meetings and meals and training sessions. Things went on and even though things had changed their boss was still pressing on.

And even putting his boss' predicament aside, you couldn't help but notice that after their last mission Mae and Coulson had uncovered something that had massively impacted Skye. Given what Fitz knew of her past it was safe to say that Whatever it was, it likely had something to do with her unidentified biological parents, and what their leaders uncovered had upset the hacker. But instead of sinking into depression, Skye had found a renewed sense of dedication. She was up early in the mornings training with Ward (and sometimes even Mae). He'd find her up late at night memorizing field manuals and SHIELD history.

…and so Fitz felt even more shame because Coulson was marching on in spite of everything, because that's what a good agent does and Skye was pressing on in spite of ….whatever the hell was going on, and she wasn't even an Agent, and here was poor stupid Leo Fitz badly in need of a pat on the shoulder.

_Alright this is getting you nowhere_ he thought. He turned on the bedside light and glanced at his watch. The dial read 3:48 AM. Fitz let out a small sigh as he pulled on some jeans and grabbed his tablet. He headed to the common area and settled in a chair where he planned to spend the rest of the morning destroying some poor-faceless fool at chess _preferably someone with an obnoxious screen name_ he mused.

He had just finished entering his account password when he heard what sounded like muffled yelling coming from inside Coulson's office. Fitz chose to ignore it because he could barely hear anything and _really who the hell knows what that was?_ Then a moment later he heard what sounded like someone punching a Ewok and still he ignored it because it had been so faint and it was really none of his business. Then he heard a door opening and he could see the light go on from the slight opening under the entrance to Coulson's office. Fitz felt guilty because while it's not the shock of the century that his boss wasn't sleeping well, he knew Coulson would be pissed if he knew someone was out here listening. Fitz considers returning to his bunk but then he hears the unmistakable sound of an object hitting the wall and Fitz thinks maybe a chess match will be good for both of them. He'd missed the matches since they had stopped, and he really needed for his boss to understand how badly he'd screwed up and the more he gave himself reasons not to knock on that door the more he felt like a coward so by the end of his internal struggle, Leo Fitz really had no choice.

He headed up the stairs and stood at the door for a moment trying to rehearse how he was going to phrase the invitation.

_Good Morning Sir I saw you were awake and was wondering if you cared to join me for a chess game_. He considered the phrasing for a moment. _No, no, that's much too formal_ he thought. _How would an American ask?_

_Yo, Sir! Sup? You having trouble sleeping? How bout a game of strategy, to ease your mind?…yall_? Fitz snickered at his own impression and considered using it on Skye later. She might get a kick out of it.

_Alright the first one then_. He settled as though using the second phrasing had ever been more than internal amusement, and then Fitz knocked on the door.

For almost a minute it sounded like his knock had gone unnoticed and then he heard…_laughter? Is that even possible?_ followed by the sound of someone approaching and opening the door. Then his boss was staring at him, all confusion and amusement and perhaps a little frustration and suddenly Fitz had forgotten what he'd rehearsed because he was standing here at a little past four in the morning and it just wasn't his place.

"Fitz" his boss finally breaks the scilence "Can I help you?"

And Fitz tries to remember why he was here in the first place.

"Ah, yes Sir" the young man begins "I thought since you were awake, and I am also clearly awake" Fitz stumbles "I mean I don't really need to tell you that since you can see me standing here, but still I thought we are both awake so perhaps you'd like to finish our game." _Great job idiot _and Leo Fitz wishes he could smack himself.

TBC


End file.
